Sins of the Father
by beneaththewater
Summary: A series of 100 fics for the pairing SakiKazutaka. Based on challanges. Latest: Guide Me Gently: Saki is sleepless.
1. Reaper

**Title:** Reaper

**Authoress:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, credit goes where it's due.

**Challenge/Theme:** #89 Fallen Angel

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing:** Saki + Kazutaka

**Rating:** PG. Lots of morbid-ness.

**Summary:** Muraki is sick again, and his brother sits by his bed. What happens when death decides it's not yet time to visit?

Often, it was thought that death came to visit you in the early hours of the morning, when you were all alone, and shrouded in the heedless innocence of sleep. Maybe it would wrap you in one final, fatal embrace, and you could pinpoint that moment when your senses accelerated and the soul fled from your body…Maybe you'd spend eternity living in that moment, remaining lost long past the time your body returned to the earth, watching the world slowly forget your existence and spiral onward until everything ended.

At the age of twelve, Saki had seen too much death, he'd been told, but such things could not be helped when one very nearly lived in a hospital. He didn't mind though; death excited him and he hungered after it. Maybe he thought too much about these things, but, to each his own unhealthy obsession.

He settled next to a bed, looking in on the pale form curled around a ratty pillow. He was nearly invisible against the sheets, fever-streaked skin gently glowing in the muted light that streamed through the little square window; false dawn. Saki smiled; his hair was splayed in the messy farce of a broken halo.

He stroked the boy's chest gently, and his labored breathing slowed.

"Good morning, little brother."

No response.

It was well into the evening when a fit of violent coughing finally wracked the shivering form. His eyes were rimmed dark with fatigue, but reflected the bright feverishness in his brother's. Saki felt his heart begin to beat faster; maybe the child would die this time or both their hearts would explode and death would take them together.

Kazutaka's hand clenched in the sheets, the livid blue tracery of veins that stretched beneath his skin mimicking some obscene flower. Saki watched in rapt fascination as the coughing dissolved once again into shuddering, desperate breaths. The hand slowly unclenched, its fragile strength beginning to ebb away. Then, everything became still.

Swiftly, he replaced the damp cloth because, for a heartbreaking eternity, he felt nothing at all. It was like death had disappointed him, and passed this child in favor of some other lowly wretch, or that his fervor was replaced with something heavy like cold stones.

He kissed the boy then, to stifle the panic rising in his throat; perhaps just to know what death tasted like on one's lips. Perhaps, to know that it was still waiting for _him_.

Some time later, Kazutaka would tell him; it was feather soft but harsh…Like a fallen angel's wing.

END

A/N: I'll tweak this later, I swear.


	2. Clean

**Title:** Clean

**Authoress:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, credit goes where it's due.

**Challenge/Theme:** 051: Dirt

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing:** Saki, Kazutaka

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Kazutaka gets dirty. (Surprisingly, not what you think.) 100 word drabble.

* * *

It was just a small spot beneath his eye, a smudge of dirt or ink – a stain. Horrified, he hid for hours, only coming out when soft murmurs of sex escaped from his parent's bedroom. He journeyed down the treacherous hall and into the bathroom; washed his face, rubbed the skin until it became red and raw, kept scrubbing until his hands were covered by watery trails of blood.

Saki chuckled in the doorway, a deep, veiled sound. "She'll kill you this time, Kazu, she'll fucking kill you."

The pair of silver eyes that answered him were disturbingly clear.


	3. Pianissimo

**Title:** Pianissimo

**Author:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, it belongs to the infinitely talented Matsushita-sensei, Hakusensha, and Viz. However, the original portions of this fiction are the sole property and copyrighted to the author.

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing(s):** Kazutaka/Saki

**Rating:** PG-13, Metaphors, Incest

**Notes: **Part of the Sins of the Father timeline.

**Summary:** _It began with a simple step, like a raindrop on the threshold of a ruined city, pounding out rhythms of soothing isolation; not a moment suspended, but a moment in which time held no meaning._

-----

It began with a simple step, like a raindrop on the threshold of a ruined city, pounding out rhythms of soothing isolation; not a moment suspended, but a moment in which time held no meaning. Another soon followed, and another, the sound of them ricocheting off the walls, and melting into peaceful infinity. And, in the faint afternoon light, cast violet through stained glass, the dust motes danced and tripped and played and told stories of things that once were, and people that once believed; of Greek myth and endless rain.

The faint scream of a violin wove through the building's hollow bones, a tune to match a tempo but enthralling yet the same; practiced, perfect timing that spoke of years of solitude. And, caught in that same, maddening tempo, shapes began to drift into being where violet flirted with dusky black. Tall, slender, and headless of their apparition, the shapes moved together in their elegant endless waltz, movements slightly jerky but fluid yet the same, like a puppet master's favorite dolls made alive but incomplete.

The dust formed creases in translucent clothing, the lines of a suit, perhaps even the body that moved beneath it. It lined his narrow eyes and longish strands of hair, once luminescent silver but now ashen and unkept with age. His partner was smaller, dwarfed almost; short auburn hair and eyes like hardened steal, unmarked by time or emotion, skin so white one might wonder if in life he had ever seen the sun.

Often, they spoke of things like the pleasure in war or the taste of old blood, of spirits that could never rest, and a battle that began underneath a red glass moon. But, sometimes, Muraki talked about the scent of tobacco; worldly things, salvation. Sometimes, Saki would rest his head on his brother's chest. Sometimes, they would say nothing at all.

"I hate you…So much…" Kazutaka spoke, a soft drawn whisper – a ghost whisper, but so very, very human. Saki smiled, wishing he could feel Kazutaka's fingers digging into his side. He wanted that pain… Only Kazutaka knew how much. That was why he taunted him, instinctually, always testing his bonds; they were two panthers in a cage of their own creation, fangs bared in a smile for this hellish sort of irony.

"You're bitter, little brother," Saki kissed him. Muraki bit his half-brother's lip, and Saki's hand tightened at the back of his neck, forcing him to rest his head on the offered shoulder. "And disgustingly weak."

Saki could almost taste the delicious tension in the beneath his fingers and, when he spoke, he let the words drip from his lips like honeyed poison. "So weak you couldn't even kill the man that murdered everyone you loved... So weak that you would blame me for your sins..."

"So weak that I could break you, _because we are the same._" Kazutaka finished, his eyes bright and hard, like a fox that had just scented a trespasser in it's midst.

Saki rose to the bait. "We are not the same."

Kazutaka took a step forward. "Said Satan to the Angel."

"I am still pure." Saki retreated, automatically following his lead.

"We are all pure..." Kazutaka mocked. "No matter how many sins we commit, if we purify ourselves, it is alright!" Another step forward and another step back.

"Isn't that what you told me, Shindou Saki?" Kazutaka's hand slammed through his brother's chest, where his heart would have been. And, as if on cue, the violin whined its last note.

"Are we still favored by God because we are _his_ children?" The fury in Muraki's one good eye could have brought hell down upon them; the sentiment could have frozen it.

"You were never his child." A drop of water trailed down Saki's cheek, not quite moving through it for a fraction of a second. When it did, soundlessly, it left an empty shadow in its place. Another fell onto his brother's arm; it felt cold. Muraki laughed.

They had long ago stopped dancing.

"I lead." Saki said, wrapping an arm around his brother's waist, and the music began again, this time to the rhythm of the rain leaking through the rafters.

Spring was upon them, and when the rain started in earnest, the old building would finally fall. Some believed it was haunted, but in truth, broken angels found refuge in its wings.

END

A/N

-- You'll notice I switch between calling the good doctor Muraki and calling him Kazutaka. This is done on purpose.

-- "Said Satan to the Angel." If I'm not mistaken, according to the bible, Lucifer/Satin/The Devil was an Angel that had fallen from the heavens because he loved God so much that he wouldn't bow to humans because it would mean putting them before God.

-- Please tell me if this is tedious, honest (and/or brutal) critique is very welcome.


	4. Suffocate

**Title: **Suffocate

**Authoress:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, credit goes where it's due.

**Challenge/Theme: #**028: Secret

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing:** Saki + Kazutaka

**Rating:** PG

**Summary: **Drabble and a half.

_My fingers around your neck, I suffocate my love out of you._

Struggling, lost, rapturous emotions. The world spun before his eyes, in its technicolor evanescence, lines becoming sharp as colors melted into one another; her beautiful oval face consumed his entire being. He couldn't breath, didn't want to. Sharp pain -- a shallow cut that caused a sharp intake of breath, making his body convulse with need for air, need for release. Desire.

But it was something else that made him breath, when the hand around his throat fell away, a gesture, the likes of which he'd never expected to see in his life. Saki shivered, and looked away from his mother's happy smile.

Kazutaka went to his brother, small form shaking, hands covered in their mother's blood, and slapped him as hard as he could manage. Saki kissed his bloody palms, and gathered Kazutaka to him. "Shh..." He soothed. "We're both damned now."


	5. China Silks

**Title: **China Silks

**Authoress:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, credit goes where it's due.

**Challenge/Theme: **079: China dress

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing:** Saki + Kazutaka

**Rating:** PG. Refrences to incest, snuff, and rape. Drabble and a half.

**Preview:** China silks against soft skin, stealing away the fleeting reminisce of warmth, of life.

China silks against soft skin, stealing away the fleeting reminisce of warmth, of life. They were vivid red; expensive finery that she wore in death like a veil of blood, an accusation. Saki pulled his hand back, unable to understand her sunken eyes, her chafing lips, ghostly gray pallor of her skin.

Death, he'd heard it called.

"Such a waste," He heard a man whisper. "The silk will rot with her corpse."

"And such a beautiful corpse."

He watched them pull the silks away, touch her body, squeeze her chest.

Sex, he'd heard it called.

And he watched until the sun came up, for the men soon turned to him. The stained china silks wrapped around his wrists, and the first face he recognized was his father's.

"Kazutaka," He smiled, pressing his brother's bound hands against his chest. "Your skin feels just like silk."

He raised a knife; he'd remedy that.

A/N: I almost missed my deadline for 100 themes with this one. I wrote it in about a ½ hour, but feel free to point out any crappyness.


	6. Guide Me Gently

**Title: **Guide me gently

**Authoress:** Sarrasi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yami no Matsuei, credit goes where it's due.

**Challenge/Theme: **039: Playing House

**Fandom:** Yami no Matsuei (Manga/Anime)

**Pairing:** Saki + Kazutaka

**Rating:** PG for imagery

**Summary:** Saki is sleepless. Saki's POV.

Saki can't sleep. He tosses, he turns, he stretches, he beats his fists against the pillows, and turns to wander the empty halls with bloodshot eyes, like the shadow of a ghost; restless. He wants to sleep.

No, he wants to walk to his brother's room, to wake him and steal his sleep, his innocence, his life and take his place. He wants to walk in his brother's skin, and it claws at him, constantly, deep in his chest, driving him mad with hunger.

No, he wants to be soothed, embraced by velvety warm blood or frozen limbs long dead. He doesn't want his brother's mother. He wants to be taken by the night, to hide himself in her arms, make a small place for himself in her coffin. He wants to belong with her.

No, he wants to hide from this shell his brother calls 'Mother', he doesn't want to believe, to be led by her lies. He stands over them, curled together like two pieces of the same soul; red frills from his brother's china-doll dress, dampened slightly by her parted lips. He sees so many things; death, and want, and greed and sin…a puppet and strings.

He leaves them there, hopes they never wake and rot before they die. He makes his bed, miles from her gave, and dreams his hollow dreams.

And in his sleep he says a prayer and reaches for her hand.

End+

A/N: I know it's an annoying tense but…that's just the way it turned out. I don't often plan what person my stories are told in. .:sweatdrops:. Opinions?


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